The World of Samar Box Set 3

by M. L. Hamilton

  She turned instead to her host. “Tell me what’s been happening in Nevaisser the last couple of months.”

  The family exchanged looks, then Clynd cleared his throat. “A lot. Your brother has changed things in Adishian.”

  Tyla leaned forward in interest. “How?”

  “He’s planted new crops and tamed the Lawries. They work for him now.”

  Tyla didn’t know how to respond to that.

  “There’s fresh food in the markets,” added Royce, “and manufacturing has increased, so goods are flowing a little better.”

  Clynd shook his head. “Won’t last, but at least, it’s eased life for a time.”

  “Why won’t it last?”

  Clynd gave her a sympathetic look. “After Tarnow died, refugees left Adishian and converged on Sarkisian demanding assistance. Rarick wouldn’t let them into the city. The gates have been closed all this time. They’ve set up a shanty town before the gates. Conditions are terrible and getting food, even now has become a nightmare, but most of these people don’t have enough money to leave.”

  Royce picked up the story. “Our peach crop was especially good this year, so Clynd and I rode into Sarkisian to distribute the excess to the people.”

  “I got curious,” added Clynd, “so I rode to the gates. They let me peek inside. Sarkisian is a bivouac.”

  “A what?”

  “The entire town is one huge military encampment. He’s called all the soldiers he can back to the capital and he’s been training more each day. I didn’t see a single civilian.” Clynd leaned forward. “Sarkisian’s preparing for war.”

  Tyla felt the blood drain from her face. “Against Adishian?”

  “Where else? It’s common knowledge what Kalas has done. That wasn’t exactly what Rarick left him in Adishian to accomplish, now was it?”

  “Has anyone warned Kalas?”

  “I’m not sure, but he’s been training the Lawries as soldiers,” offered Royce.

  “The Lawries are no match for Guardsmen,” said Tyla, clasping her hands in her lap.

  “He must have known that Rarick wouldn’t let this go,” said Clynd.

  Tyla looked away, lifting her hand to curl it around the emerald. She didn’t have time to warn Kalas, but she could stop Rarick. Cut the head off the snake as Jarrett had said so long ago. She had to cut the head off the snake.

  “That’s enough,” said Rosamel. Tyla felt the woman’s eyes on her. “There’s nothing we can do tonight. Let’s get some sleep.”

  Tyla glanced at the woman and gave her a hesitant nod. Pushing herself to her feet, Rosamel crossed to Tyla’s chair and urged her to stand. Tyla allowed the older woman to guide her to Clynd’s room and shut the door behind her. Tyla stood in the dark and listened to the mother chastise her sons for offering more information than she thought was necessary.

  Climbing onto the bed, she tried to get more sleep, but a long while before dawn, she gave up the effort and rolled out of bed. She dressed in the cold, dark room and repacked her things, then crept out into the main room. She could hear the boys snoring as she hurried to the front door.

  The latch protested as she lifted it and she hesitated, afraid that they would hear. When no one came to investigate, she eased the door open and exited the cottage. Closing the door carefully behind her, she made her way down the stairs and toward the barn. Moonlight guided her and the horses made a welcoming sound as she entered. She saddled the mare from Temeron and quickly penned a note, which she tacked to the other horse’s stall, thanking the family for their help.

  She guided the mare from the barn and walked her to the edge of the farm. She left without refilling her food or water supply, hoping that she would find a stream before she came to the desert. As the moon rose, she marked that Sarkisian lay directly before her.

  * * *

  Jarrett stood on the summit and stared down at the spire of Stronghold’s tower, rising like a shimmering, black spear from the walls of the city. Muzik nudged Kendrick with his shoulder and pointed at him.

  “He’s been like that for an hour. You sure the infection hasn’t gone to his head?”

  Kendrick laid another few logs on the fire and poked the embers with a stick. Across from him, Earon lounged on his saddle. He did very little to set camp each night, complaining that his muscles ached. Now he nodded at the Terrian.

  “He’s definitely losing it.”

  Kendrick felt a spark of anger. Jarrett had done well despite his injuries and he’d certainly been a better companion than the Lawry runner. Oddly enough, Kendrick felt he understood Jarrett more than the others now, something he would never have believed when they started this mission.

  Allistar entered the camp, carrying a pot filled with water. He handed it to Kendrick, but his eyes immediately went to his friend. “He’s still there.”

  Kendrick nodded. “We probably should have camped lower down the mountain or waited to camp until there was less light. The sight of Stronghold makes me feel apprehensive. I can’t imagine what it does to him.”

  Allistar stepped past the fire and crossed to Jarrett’s side. Kendrick rose also and followed at a discreet distance.

  “Jarrett, come away,” offered the Stravad. “The view isn’t going to change no matter how long you look at it.”

  Jarrett looked toward Allistar’s feet. “I saw her just now.”

  Allistar and Kendrick exchanged a look. That wasn’t what they’d expected him to say. Moving to the edge, Allistar looked over. “Where?”

  “No,” said Jarrett, “I saw her in here.” He touched a hand to his temple.

  Kendrick was glad Earon couldn’t understand Lodenian. It would confirm his suspicion.

  “What do you mean?” Allistar’s voice rang with concern. “You connected with her thoughts?”

  “No. She’s still blocking me. This was visual. I saw her.”

  “Where was she?”

  “I don’t know, but she was crying. She was lying on a bed in a dark room and she was crying.”

  “How far away?”

  Jarrett shook his head, looking out at Stronghold again. “I don’t know. It lasted only a moment, but she was there as if I could reach out and touch her.”

  “Has this ever happened before?”

  “Never.”

  Allistar shifted weight. “You say you can communicate with her through thoughts. Was this different?”

  “Yes, it was visual and it lasted just a few seconds. I’m not sure she was even aware I could see her. When we share thoughts she controls it.”

  “Have you been trying to contact her?” asked Kendrick, moving to their side.

  “Constantly, but she has me blocked. Still. She never lets down her guard.”

  “Maybe she did. Maybe that’s why you got a visual of her. If she was crying, she might have slipped a bit.”

  “Do you think it could happen again?”

  Kendrick shrugged. “Who knows, but I think it’s worth trying. Can you remember how you felt when it happened?”

  “Yes, but that doesn’t help me.”

  “It might. Think of what you were doing when you saw her.”

  “Are you saying I have control over this?”

  “I am. Tyla’s powers have always been psychic, but I don’t remember her ever saying she had the power to see people. This may be your own gifts coming to bear.” Jarrett’s eyes went distant. Kendrick hoped he hadn’t just given the Terrian something else to obsess over. “We should change your bandages,” he said to pull his attention back.

  Jarrett nodded and followed the Nazarien back to the fire. “I can’t understand why we haven’t caught up with her,” he muttered as he took a seat.

  “She’s got two horses and she’s lighter than we are. She can ride faster and farther. Not to mention the head start she got on us.”

  Jarrett closed his eyes. “I can’t stand the thought of her entering Sarkisian by herself.”

  Kendrick gripped his arm and forced him t
o meet his gaze. “We’ll go after her. Even then. We’ll go right to the front door of Stronghold if necessary. Believe that.”

  Jarrett forced a smile. “I do,” he said.

  CHAPTER 30

  Tyla led the horse through the refugee camp. People stared out at her, watching her progress. Their eyes were hollow. Children with swollen bellies sat listlessly in the shade of the makeshift tents, crying or swatting at flies.

  A chill shivered over her. These people were dying.

  Tightening her hands on the mare’s reins, she angled through the huddled masses, aiming for the gates. She didn’t need the horse any longer, but the mare had been such a solid companion for the entire journey, Tyla wasn’t willing to abandon her to the obvious fate that awaited her beyond the gates of Sarkisian.

  A handful of ill-clothed men began following her. Tyla wasn’t worried about them attacking her, but she kept them in her line of sight. The desperation of these people was obvious.

  The road into Sarkisian cut a path through the desert. It was lined with volcanic material, tamped down by thousands of carts and feet each year. Tyla steered the horse onto the road, then paused. She moved to the saddlebag, holding the reins tightly, and reached inside to pull out the remaining travel cakes. She extended them to the closest man that followed her.

  He accepted them, then turned to hand them to a group of children that were lining the road. The children tore into the tasteless cakes, cramming them into their mouths. Tyla looked away and started moving again.

  Apprehension crowded her throat, made swallowing difficult. She believed the emerald would equalize things between her and Rarick, but it didn’t lessen her memories or fear. The battlements rose above her, shadowing the road and the gate.

  A single guard stood behind the gate, but along the wall, Tyla could see the movement of many soldiers. They were patrolling the perimeter of the city, keeping everyone out. It was just as Clynd had said.

  Glancing behind her, Tyla marked the increasing number of men that followed her to the gate. She brought the horse to a halt and surveyed the bars. The guard eyed both her and her entourage, gripping the handle of his sword.

  “No one is allowed inside of Sarkisian.”

  The main gates were too large to open by one man. Rarick was more than determined to keep the people outside of his city. To the right of the main gate was a smaller one, a portcullis that would admit both her and the mare.

  Turning back to the soldier, she marked that he was regular infantry. Behind him, the streets of Sarkisian were empty. Spring was the most pleasant season in the entire kingdom. To see no one moving back and forth from market was odd. Another chill shivered over her.

  “Open the gate,” she said, nodding at the smaller one.

  The guard tightened his lips against his teeth in a nervous snarl. “No one is allowed inside of Sarkisian.”

  Behind her, Tyla heard the murmur of the men. They’d obviously heard this line before. She didn’t have time to play with this boy. Narrowing her eyes, she connected with his mind. Immediately his face went slack and his hand fell from his sword.

  “Open the gate,” she repeated.

  He moved in that direction, turning the wheel in the wall just enough to admit her and the horse. Tyla led the mare forward and passed into Sarkisian. Some part of her wanted to allow the refugee men inside as well, but she feared they’d only be killed by the soldiers manning the walls.

  She made the guard lower the gate again, then she abruptly stopped the blood flowing to his brain. He slumped beside the portcullis, his eyes rolling back in his head, but his breathing immediately returned to normal. Running a soothing hand over the mare’s forehead, Tyla angled into the streets, headed toward Stronghold.

  The sight of the castle, rising dark and forbidding before her, made her knees tremble. She hadn’t been back here in more than a decade. Memories teased at her consciousness, but she shoved them aside, allowing only purpose to fill her thoughts.

  A flurry of movement distracted her. At her throat, the emerald began to pulse. A moment later, a band of soldiers moved into formation to block the main road.

  “Halt!” shouted the commander. He had red braids looped over his shoulder and a red panther sprang from the middle of his chest.

  Tyla brought the horse to a stop, surveying the men. They were brandishing their weapons, glaring at her with the seasoned coldness of blooded soldiers. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I’m headed for Stronghold.”

  “Stay where you are. You’re under arrest.”

  Tyla began walking again.

  “Halt!” shouted the man.

  Tyla kept walking.

  The commander was obviously alarmed at the thought of striking a woman. He shifted weight and passed his sword to his left hand. “I said halt!” His men moved restlessly.

  Tyla continued on.

  “Detain the prisoner,” ordered the commander and came forward to meet her.

  The emerald reacted and flared forth. Tyla allowed her power to flow into it and it reacted with a psychic percussion that sent men and weapons flying backward to crumple in the streets.

  Tyla strode between them, leading the mare. She didn’t have time to spare them any concern. A moment later, she saw motion behind her. A new group of soldiers flanked her, but they didn’t try to halt her forward momentum. She dismissed them and focused instead on the rise of Stronghold, growing closer by the minute.

  She found the gate to the castle open. Another phalanx of soldiers lined the row leading to the castle, but they didn’t impede her progress. Tyla passed the reins of her horse to the last soldier in the line. He gave her a quizzical look, but she continued on.

  Before her rose the stairs of Stronghold. She hesitated at the foot of them and gripped the railings. Her heart was hammering against her ribs and her mouth was dry. At her throat, the emerald beat a staccato rhythm in tune to her heart rate.

  Closing her eyes, she drew in her will. Oh, the memories of this place. So much fear, so much anxiety. Forcing herself to look behind, she marked the crowd of soldiers lined up on the parade grounds – meant for Adishian, meant for her brother.

  She started climbing.

  The door to the castle was also open. She passed from the sunlight into the darkened interior, pausing to give her eyes time to adjust.

  “He’s waiting for you in the tower.”

  Tyla knew Marlas’ voice. As her eyes adjusted, she saw the stoop shouldered man standing just within the entrance hall. He had aged much these last few years, his hair was thinning and the hollows of his cheeks made his face look longer.

  Still, he gave her the same oily smile.

  Tyla felt rage move through her.

  “I wouldn’t keep him waiting long. He’s not been a patient monarch these last few weeks. The rabble outside the walls is unnerving him.”

  Tyla moved forward. Even stooped by age, Marlas was taller than she was, but she didn’t care. She no longer feared him as she had when she was a child. “Run,” she said. “Run as far as you can.”

  His eyes widened, then he laughed.

  Tyla let him enjoy his moment, then she leaned close. “If you don’t, you will die.”

  His laughter cut off. Tyla didn’t wait to see his reaction. She started moving toward the tower.

  * * *

  Jarrett pulled his horse to a halt and lifted his fingers to press against his eyes. For a moment, only a moment, he’d seen her. She was standing in a darkened hall, opaque black walls rising around her.

  Another man was in the room, wizen, thin, his funereal clothes hanging off a gangly frame.

  “Run.”

  He concentrated hard, trying to catch what else she’d said, but it was just a flash, just a moment of time.

  “Jarrett?”

  The image vanished.

  Jarrett opened his eyes and met Kendrick’s concerned look. The others had stopped their horses and were gazing back at him. Around them spread the Sarkisian d
esert, oddly beautiful in the spring sun.

  “Are you all right?”

  Jarrett drew a deep breath. The wound in his side throbbed. He pressed a hand against it and exhaled. “I’m fine.”

  “Do you need to stop?” asked Allistar.

  “No.” By the vision, he knew Tyla had entered Stronghold. “We don’t have much time. We have to keep going.”

  “Did you have another vision?” asked the Nazarien.

  “Yes. She’s inside the castle.”

  He spoke in Lodenian, so only Kendrick and Allistar understood.

  “What?” demanded Muzik.

  Kendrick translated.

  Earon looked away.

  “Are you sure you remember how to get into Sarkisian?” Jarrett asked Earon.

  “I remember a tunnel. Whether it’s blocked or guarded, I don’t know, but I can show you the entrance.”

  “All right. Let’s ride.”

  “Jarrett?”

  The Terrian looked up.

  “I won’t go in there.”

  “Where? The tunnel?”

  “Sarkisian.” Earon looked away again, lifting a hand to rub at his scar. “I’ll take you to the tunnel, but I won’t go in. I can’t.” His voice vibrated with emotion. “Please understand.”

  Jarrett brought his horse close to the Lawry runner, forcing Earon to look at him. “I do. I understand.”

  Earon simply nodded, then kneed his horse to get it moving again.

  * * *

  Tyla climbed the winding staircase into the tower, her heart hammering against her ribs, causing the emerald to throw green light against the opaque black walls. She couldn’t allow memories to overwhelm her, but they pressed against her mind, wanting to be recognized. She topped the stairs, coming into the circular room that led to all other rooms in the tower. Before her was the old school room, its double doors thrown open, sunlight streaming out.

  She squinted until her eyes adjusted. A sudden gasp and flurry of motion blocked the sun, then Inara was before her, pulling her into her embrace. “Eldon’s star, child, why are you here?” Inara held her away and placed her hands on Tyla’s cheeks, looking into her eyes. “You shouldn’t be here.”